


Death Becomes Him

by orphanerprime



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphanerprime/pseuds/orphanerprime
Summary: What if Bruce Wayne became something else, something other while on his quest to be Batman?This is where I'm going to put my Vampire!Batman drabbles as I write them! I'm also basing this off of my own ideas about vampires. I'm not following any kind of pre-determined canon.
Kudos: 3





	Death Becomes Him

It had been a long day of training. Bruce was getting tired, dangerously so. The mat beneath his feet was slick with sweat. He couldn't keep the sure footing he needed for this particular set. Now wasn't the time to back out, though. He dodged one strike. Two. A student hidden in the rafters flew at him, silent as a shadow. He deflected the kick, using his body weight to shift through the movement. He wanted to pant so badly, wanted to sag with fatigue. His breath burned in his chest, fighting his body's urge to suck in air. 

He remained calm. Turned to face another flying fist. 

His foot shifted too far, sliding on the slick mat. He couldn't get his leg under him in time. He could feel eyes behind him, feel the shifting in weight, the subtle movement of the other student. He knew he wouldn't get his footing in time. He put his arm up to block - too late. 

Too late. 

Kyodai Ken watched as his heel connected with the back of Bruce Wayne's head. The thunk of the kick connecting was satisfying in so many ways. Finally, he'd gotten the best of Yoru-sensei's finest pupil. Bruce fell, heavy body thudding against the floor. He fell half off of the training mat, head cracking against the hardwood. He lay completely still. 

Kyodai watched as the room stayed silent, waiting with bated breath for Wayne to stand. He watched as the others dropped their defensive stances, turning to gather around Wayne. He could feel Yoru-sensei watching as one student knelt next to the prone form, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim dusk light. 

Kyodai shoved the other man out of the way, kneeling next to Wayne. There was no blood. He leant down, pressing his fingers to Wayne's neck. There was no pulse.

Something tightened in his chest. He couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement. He pressed his ear against the broad back. The sweat had cooled on Wayne's pale skin and he fought the urge to shiver in disgust. All was quiet. 

He straightened and turned to look at Yoru-sensei. He shook his head once. There was nothing to be done. Bruce Wayne was dead. 

They buried him in the small cemetery behind the compound. Each student stood vigil over his body over the night, paying their respects. Yoru-sensei prayed over his body, lighting incense, showing respect to his fallen student. They had no time to prepare a cremation, instead placing him to rest on the isolated hill. 

A large pine tree marked his grave, the shed needles scattered over to cover the fresh earth. Kyodai thought even that was too good for him. What right did a rich man like Bruce Wayne have to buy his education, when he had to fight for it from the very beginning? 

He had come to sit at the graveside, a week from the day he'd killed him. He hadn't meant to, even though he didn't feel guilty. Kyodai felt that it was proof that money couldn't buy someone everything - being a good fighter, a great ninja, was all down to skill and determination. He figured he'd just had more of it than Bruce Wayne. 

The moon was round and heavy that night, shivering in the humid heat. It rose over the mountain like a great eye, casting the valley in it's watchful silver light. 

Kyodai took a deep breath of the pine air. Held it in his lungs. Relished releasing it. The sweat coating his skin did nothing to cool him, only making the pine needles stick to the damp skin of his arms and legs. He stood, feeling that he'd done enough visiting for the night. 

Twenty feet from the site, he could feel the ground shift behind him. He turned swifty, already in his defensive stance. He could see nothing. A cloud passed over the eye of the moon. He was left blind in the momentary darkness. 

A sound like digging filled his ears. His heart squeezed in his chest, but he denied his fear. He steadied his breath as he took a step closer. The cloud passed from over the moon, bathing the gravesite in pale light. 

Something about it had changed. Had that mound of dirt been there before? 

Another cloud shifted over, casting Kyodai in darkness. He could feel his gut tighten in terror as the digging sound grew louder. The sounds of the night were completely gone. No crickets, no owls, not even the sound of the breeze. 

The cloud passed. A hand clawed at the earth before him. 

Kyodai's heart stopped. He couldn't believe his eyes. He shook, his muscles screaming to run, to flee, his mind alerting him to run. Only his training kept him there as he watched. 

Watched as Bruce Wayne climbed free of his grave. 

His skin was as pale as the moon above, glowing even as another cloud passed briefly over. The image of the man - the creature's white flesh - was burned into Kyodai's eyes.

He stepped back, his body finally responding. He took another step, all while watching the creature crawl out of the earth. He turned and ran, fear clawing at his throat as he raced for the compound. 

He had hidden in his room for the rest of the night. He tried to convince himself it was a nightmare, brought on by delayed guilt. Maybe he'd felt worse about killing Wayne than he initially thought? 

He raced this train of thought around his mind, all while seeing the image of the moon-bright flesh behind his eyelids. He couldn't close them, couldn't sleep. Despite his training, his heart raced in his chest. 

As the sun rose he felt the fear loosen in his chest. The burning rays slipped through his window, settling on his sweat-chilled skin like a warm caress. Surely it had all been a bad dream? 

He changed out of his night clothes. He performed his morning stretches. The sleepless night left his stomach roiling, the unspent adrenaline pitching bile in his throat. He breathed deeply as he slid open his bedroom door - only to find Wayne standing outside. 

Kyodai couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. How could this be? He'd killed him, heard the silent heart, confirmed it with his own eyes. 

Wayne was covered in dark earth. It coated him like a second skin. His eyes - once a bright grey - were clouded over. He reeked of death, of crawling things and rotting flesh. Kyodai couldn't help it. The unsettled bile rose in his throat, and he turned his head, spraying vomit all over the floor. 

A scraping sound, like flesh on stone, and Kyodai barely moved in time to block the fist flying at his face. His stomach protested each movement, the tightening of his abdominals as he flipped to block Wayne's kick. His muscles protested, fighting against him. 

He shouted as Wayne landed a blow against his right side. He felt a rib crack. He turned to protect his weakened flank, but was swept off his feet by a low kick from Wayne. 

Their fighting, Kyodai's screaming, brought the other students running. They watched in horror and confusion as the two men fought desperately - one dead, and one very nearly. 

Kyodai tried to pin him, shuddering as his hands wrapped around the unyielding and icy flesh. It was futile. Wayne pried his hands off like an annoying bit of cobweb. Kyodai grunted as he felt his fingers break. Watched as Wayne pinned him to the ground, arms trapped between his broken ribs and the creature's broad chest. 

None of the others rushed to his aid. He didn't blame them - he wouldn't either. 

Wayne growled above him, the sound vibrating in his chest. It reminded him of the great tigers he had seen, a low and predatory sound. His cloudy eyes flashed in the morning sun as he looked down at Kyodai. His face was void of all emotion, nothing there. He was nothing more than an animated corpse. 

He tried to shift Wayne off with his legs, trying to wrap around his torso. It did nothing. Kyodai flailed wildly, an unconscious wail growing in his throat. His heart raced and pounded against his chest. 

Wayne arched his head back, pulling back pale lips to reveal sharp canines. The cloudy eyes rolled in his head, searching, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth. He struck like a snake, burying his teeth deep into the hot flesh of Kyodai's neck. 

He bit deep and hard, his broad body pinning the other man to the floor. The other students watched in horrified silence, Yoru-sensei rushing into the hallway after hearing the commotion. He shoved them aside, not caring for decorum as he watched the scene unfold before him. 

Bruce Wayne, what remained of him, feeding on Kyodai Ken. 

As he stood there, Bruce released a howling scream. He shook as he pulled himself away, clawing at his face and throat. He drug himself into a corner of the room, covering his face with his large hands. 

Yoru-sensei waited a moment. Kyodai lie still, but breathing. He shooed the other students away, risking stepping into the ruins of the room. 

Bruce Wayne, covered in grave dirt and blood, sat panting and shaking. He looked up at his teacher, confusion plain on his face. His body tingled and burned. It felt like coming inside after nearly freezing to death, his body warming suddenly and unpleasantly. Sensation began pouring into his mind, overwhelming. 

His vision cleared, becoming unbearably sharp. He could hear his own racing heart, feel the ache of his starved lungs. What had happened? Why was he in Kyodai Ken's room? 

Yoru-sensei turned to him. His eyes were guarded, his mouth a thin line that betrayed his worry. That look, the concern, stilled Bruce for a moment. He tried to calm his breathing, to gather his surroundings. 

His racing heart calmed. He took a deep breath - in through his nose, out through his mouth. 

"Wh-what happened?" His voice was rough with disuse. He forgot to speak in Japanese. 

Yoru-sensei inhaled sharply. He kneeled before Bruce, the concerned press of his mouth sharpening, shifting into something more stern. 

"You have died, Wayne-san."


End file.
